


Never Been Kissed

by orphan_account



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Bisexual Mike Wheeler, Drinking, Gay Will Byers, I can't write kids making out, M/M, Pining, Slight age up, Stupid Teenagers, Truth or Dare, it's really weird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 23:40:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19936435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: By age sixteen, Will Byers still hasn't had his first kiss, but that's nothing some good friends, liquid courage, and a good old fashioned game of truth or dare can't fix.





	Never Been Kissed

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in one sitting at two in the morning, so there are probably some typos. Please let me know if you find any, because I love fixing them.  
> Also, feel free to follow me on tumblr at ryomouwrites. I'm thinking about taking requests, especially for those days when the writers block hits.

By the age of sixteen, Will Byers still hasn’t had his first kiss. He knows that for a lot of people that’s probably pretty normal, but for the rest of his party, he’s the odd man out. Mike has El, Lucas has Max, and even Dustin has Suzie, who he sees every summer. He’d had his chance once, with a girl who’s name he can’t remember at the Snowball a few years back. But she’d practically been a stranger, and it’s hard to kiss somebody who’d invited him to dance by calling him ‘Zombie Boy.’

Will tries not to be resentful, but he can’t really help it. He’s lonely. He’s the seventh wheel in a group full of couples that spend all of their time making out and holding hands, and as much as he tries to act like he’s not interested in dating or affection, he’d like at least _one kiss_. From _someone_. _Anyone_.

Okay, maybe not _anyone_.

There may be someone he’s had in mind for a year or two. Or five.

But even though Will’s a dreamer, he knows when to be a realist, and a kiss with this particular person just isn’t going to happen. Partially because they’re already taken, and partially because, well, they’re both boys.

Will hasn’t thought much on whether or not he’s queer. Sure, his dad and people at school say that he is, but he doesn’t like the idea of labeling himself with a word like that until he’s absolutely sure. He needs solid evidence, crushes on boys, multiple boys. Not just one. Because Mike…Mike could just be a fluke, right? There’s always the chance that the flutter in Will’s chest is born from their friendship and not from the fact that Mike is a guy. He could just be drawn in by what’s familiar to him, want a connection to someone he _already_ has a connection with. And ever since they were kids, there’s nobody Will’s been closer to than Mike.

So, to want his first kiss to be with him…well, that just makes sense. At least it does in Will’s mind. But, it’s never going to happen—so he tries he best to let the dream die.

* * *

It’s the end of their sophomore year when they all get drunk for the first time. They unanimously agree it’s the dumbest and best decision they’ve made as a party in a long time. Cindy Holland is throwing the ‘party of the year,’ also known as her birthday party, and not a single one of them had been invited. Sure, none of them had been all that surprised, but it still kind of hurt anyway. Max, at least, was well liked at school, so for her not to get an invitation was the biggest shock of all. Will can tell that Lucas feels guilty, probably blaming himself in some way, believing that by associating with _them,_ Max is dragging herself down.

The redhead calls him and idiot and pilfers a bottle of something clear from her step-dad’s liquor cabinet later that night, proclaiming that they’ll make their own fun.

She isn’t called MadMax without reason, after all.

They head down to the quarry well after nightfall; probably not the safest place, but definitely somewhere they won’t get caught, and they opt to ride their bikes instead of drive because they may be acting dumb right now, but they’re not _that_ dumb. Max is the only one with her license anyway.

“So, what is this?” Dustin asks, holding the bottle in his hand, panting heavily as he sits on a rock near the water. They’d had to drag their bikes several miles through the heavily wooded area around the quarry to get to an isolated area at the bottom, but it was worth it to be left alone.

“Hell if I know,” Max says, sitting beside him. “Vodka maybe? Neil peels off the labels so my mom doesn’t know what he’s drinking.”

“That sounds…healthy,” Lucas says.

They’re sitting in a circle, sans El, who’s still bundled up in Hoppers cabin, studying hard in the hopes that she’ll be able to start school next year. Hawkins lab left her education stunted, and she’s had a lot of catching up to do over the years. A nervous energy begins to bubble in Will’s stomach. He’s never had alcohol before, and he’s scared to admit that he doesn’t really like the idea of being out of control, especially not after the Mind Flayer, even though it was years ago. But if he’s going to drink, there’s no group of people in the world he’d rather do it with than his friends.

“Who’s going first?” Mike asks. He’s wedged himself between Lucas and Will, and Will can feel their knees brushing in the warm spring air, and he loves it. Not necessarily the contact, but the comradery of it all. Being wedged together, making mistakes, screwing up like normal teenagers are supposed to do. No saving the world drama, no interdimensional monsters to fight, no bad guys, no government; just them. It’s nice. It’s safe.

“I will,” Lucas says. He pops the lid off and takes a giant swig and immediately gags. Max bursts out laughing.

“Oh my God! It’s like drinking fire!” the teen exclaims.

“Pass it here,” Mike says with a grin. He takes the same sized gulp and gets a similar reaction with and additional body shudder. “Yeah, yeah that’s bad. Will?” He holds the bottle out to him, and something in his brain hesitates because he’s _nervous_ but he’s also in the company of friends and _eh_ , why the hell not? You’re only young once, after all.

It’s worse than he imagined. The liquid burns his taste buds and burns his throat and burns as it settles in his stomach—it’s almost as if he’s swallowed a burst of fire, but instead of shuddering like Mike, he takes a deep, gasping breath in.

“Whoa,” Will breathes, and everybody laughs.

They continue like that, passing the bottle in a circle. They don’t come anywhere near emptying it, as all of them have a low tolerance, and it doesn’t take long before words are slurring and they’re all leaning on each other and laughing just a touch too hard at things that really aren’t that funny.

“Sh-Sh-Shindy” Dustin stutters.

“Cindy?” Will corrects.

“Right. Shindy’s party probably isn’t that great anyways. I’d much rather be here with you guys.”

The curly haired teen flings an arm around Will’s shoulders and pulls him in for a hug. Turns out he’s an affectionate drunk, and it warms Will’s heart to think about how even when he’s inebriated, Dustin loves them all.

Lucas scoffs.

“Sap,” he says, and Max breaks out in a string of giggles.

Will pats Dustin on the back.

“I’d rather be here too, man,” he says.

“See! Will gets it!” Dustin practically wails.

“Hey! Hey! Hey!” Lucas shouts. “Let’s play truth or dare!”

They all groan.

“That’s a kid’s game, Lucas,” Mike complains.

“Yeah, what are you, ten?” Max teases.

“No, it’s a party game! And _we’re_ having a party.”

“Yeah, we’re having a party, _Mike_ ,” Dustin goads.

“Fine, Lucas, I dare you to jump in the quarry,” Mike says petulantly, crossing his arms over his chest. Lucas takes the bait, immediately standing and stripping off his shirt.

“No, no!” Will and Max chant in unison.

“Lucas, don’t do it!” Max orders. It’s not a high jump, barely three feet down, but neither one of them likes the idea of swimming under the influence. Lucas doesn’t listen and flings himself full bodied into the water, hollering all the way.

“Dammit, Mike!” Max looks furious, even in the dark.

Lucas is laughing, and flings a wave up with one arm, splashing nobody but Dustin who sputters indignantly.

“Son of a bitch, Lucas!”

“Mike! Truth or dare!” the teen hollers from below.

“Dare me, asshole!”

“Throw your clothes in the water!”

“My _clothes_?!”

“You heard me, all of them!”

Mike stands up in a huff, stumbling a few times, but stripping quickly in the humid night air. Even under the moonlight, Will can see the constellation of freckles on his friend’s shoulders, and he forces himself to look away, watching in fascination as Mike’s shirt lands on the smooth surface of the man-made lake. Then his shorts. Then his socks.

“Shoes too!” Lucas insists.

“My fucking shoes?!”

“Uh-huh.”

“What, do you want my underwear too?”

Will’s face heats up so quickly it makes him dizzy, but that might be the alcohol.

“Ew,” Max laughs.

“Nah, you can keep those.”

Each one of Mike’s shoes land with a loud plop.

“There! Are you happy now?!”

Lucas looks smug.

“Very,” he says.

“Give me that,” Mike orders, taking the bottle from Dustin for another swig. Out of the corner of his eye, all Will can see is miles and miles of pale white skin. When Mike passes the bottle to him, he doesn’t say no.

“Max, truth or dare?”

“Uh, dare, obviously.”

“Fish your dumbass boyfriend out of the water before he drowns.”

“That’s hardly a dare, Mike.”

“My clothes too.”

Max rolls her eyes.

“Hey, dumbass boyfriend, get out of the water! And grab Mike’s clothes!”

There’s a symphony of splashing as Lucas does as he’s asked and the redhead looks smug.

“Good enough?”

Mike scoffs.

“I guess.”

“Dustin, truth or dare.”

“Truth.”

“How far have you and Suzie…you know?”

“Well, considering we only see each other _at camp_ and she’s _Mormon_ , making out. But it’s great. I’m happy with that. What about you, Will? Truth or dare?”

“Uh…truth I guess.”

Dustin rubs his hands together conspiringly.

“I feel like there’s a lot to learn from you Byers. I don’t know where to start.”

Will can’t tell if he’s joking or not. Lucas plods through the circle and drops Mike’s clothes at his feet before sitting next to his girlfriend. Then, a litany of questions break out from everyone.

“Are Jonathan and Nancy seriously going to move in together?” From Mike.

“Are your mom and Hopper dating?” From Lucas.

“Was it you that ran over Old Man Fredrick’s mailbox?” From Max.

“Who was _your_ first kiss?” From Dustin.

“Yeah, that one!” Max agrees.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve seen you with anyone before, Will,” says Lucas.

Mike is pulling on his dripping wet clothes and shame is burning bright in Will’s stomach, mixing with the alcohol, making him feel sick and nervous and… _sick._

“Well…because, I haven’t,” Will admits, voice small.

“You haven’t dated anyone, or you haven’t kissed anyone,” Max clarifies.

“…Either.”

“What?!” Dustin exclaims, punching him in the shoulder.

“Ow.”

“Will Byers, _why_?”

“I just…I just haven’t…you know met anyone that I…like.”

And bless Mike, bless his heart and bless his soul, because he must be able to tell how uncomfortable Will is since he asks the question, louder than everyone’s voices combined:

“What time is it?”

Dustin looks at his watch.

“Shit. Shit! One-eighteen!”

“Oh, shit!” They all jump up, fast but uncoordinated. Max tries to jam the bottle back into her bag, but misses the first three times, and when Will stands, the world spins with him and he flops right back down, narrowly avoiding pinwheeling backwards.

Mike chuckles in the most contagious way, and soon everyone is scream-laughing and Will has to grip his sides as he almost slides off the rock he’s sitting on.

“Thank god we didn’t drive,” Lucas says.

“I know, right?”

* * *

Will ends up being too drunk to bike home.

Not that he doesn’t try, he just falls…a lot.

“Why don’t you stay at my place?” Mike suggests. “So your Mom doesn’t see you.”

It sounds like the greatest idea Mike’s ever had.

The walk there is long, and Mike walks with him, pushing his bike along the side of the road, because whenever he rides, even if it’s slow, he ends up far, far ahead of Will.

“Your mom probably shouldn’t see you either,” Will says, and it’s true. Mike’s clothes are still dripping wet, shoes squeaking with every soggy step, and for a second Will worries about whether or not he’s cold.

“Shit, you’re probably right. We’ll go in through the basement. It’ll be fine.”

The walk feels like it takes fifty years.

The ground keeps swaying underneath Will’s feet. His bike feels like it weighs a ton. Mike looks so pretty underneath the streetlights. And he needs to let his dreams die. Will reminds himself every day—he needs to let the dreams die.

“Oh my God, finally!” Mike all but cries in relief. His house looks like heaven in the distance, and the boys speed up into a clumsy run, dropping their bikes in the driveway like they used to when they were younger.

They race to the side of the house to the door leading to the basement. Will still loves this basement with all his heart. Not a lot has changed about it. It still has the same table and couch that it used to, though the blanket fort is long gone. And there are still piles of laundry in the corner that Mike’s mom saves for mornings to put away.

“There should be some clean clothes here,” Mike says, already stripping down.

Will goes to the other corner, giving his friend some privacy as he digs for blankets and sleeping bags, safe where they’ve always been. He’s kind of excited. It’ll be like a sleepover, one that they haven’t had in ages.

“Here, I found some for you too.”

Mike’s suddenly behind him, passing him a pair of pajamas.

“I’ll set all this up while you get changed.”

Will can only nod.

His eyelids are starting to feel heavy and his hands are uncoordinated as he undresses and redresses himself in nightclothes that are a few sizes too big for him. They’re warm, and they’re comfortable, and they smell like Mike.

_Let the dream die,_ he reminds himself.

When he turns around, he had expected the couch and a sleeping bag to be set up, but instead found two sleeping bags side by side. The unanimous decision since first grade had been that Mike got the couch since it was his basement. Will doesn’t understand why that’s changing now. But Mike’s already tucking himself into the sleeping bag on the right, so Will chooses not to ask questions and pads over to the one on the left after turning out the light.

He’d expected them to drift right off to sleep. After all, the alcohol made their bodies heavy and their minds heavier, but for some reason the silence doesn’t feel right. Almost as if there’s something unspoken between them, like something is wrong or waiting to happen.

“Mike,” Will whispers.

“Yeah?”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I…I dunno.”

He both hears and feels Mike turn over on his side to face him.

“You’ve always been really observant, you know that, Will?”

Will hums in acknowledgment.

“I’m…I’ve been having some problems…with El.”

Will turns on his side too, and immediately regrets it. He can feel Mike’s breath on his face, can feel the warmth of his body so close to his.

“Do you…wanna talk about it?”

“I…I think I might wanna break up with her? It’s like, the older we get, the less we have in common. I mean, I still like her! And I think I’m always going to care about her, but besides making out, there’s just…there’s not a lot there. We don’t…we don’t like the same movies, or books, or games…or anything really. She’s an amazing person. I just don’t know if she’s the amazing person for me, you know?”

“Have you talked to her about this?”

“No, hell no!”

“Why, hell no?”

“I don’t even know where to start! I’m…I’m not good at this kind of thing. Talking, I mean.”

“Just tell her what you told me.”

Mike sighs.

“Yeah, but that’s different. You’re _Will_.”

Will’s heart sinks. That’s the problem, he’s Will. Just Will. Little Will Byers, short for his age, listener to other people’s problems, never seen and never heard unless he’s needed for something.

“You understand things,” Mike continues. “You get people. I never have to worry about messing up with you.”

Oh.

That warms Will’s heart a bit.

Just a bit.

“I still can’t believe you’ve never been kissed.”

“Don’t rub it in,” Will deadpans.

“No, I mean it. Last year, Sharon Hadley was _crazy_ about you. A lot of girls were. A lot of girls _are_.”

Will scoffs.

“Right,” he says sarcastically.

Mike raises up on one arm, and Will can’t see him, but he can _feel_ him, hovering just a foot or two above him.

“She sat behind me in chemistry class. I had to listen to her talk about how _big_ your eyes are and how _soft_ your hair looks and how you’re so _smart_ and you’re so _nice_.”

Will laughs nervously, heart pounding in his chest, because Mike’s breath is still on his face, and they’re so _close_ and it’s so _dark_ and his head is swimming and he’s pretty sure he had a dream like this once. He nearly jumps out of his skin when Mike’s hand touches his forehead, brushing his bangs away from his face.

“She’s not wrong though,” he whispers.

“Mike…”

“I hate that you can’t see it…”

Then, like so many dreams he’s had, like every dream he’s told himself to let die, Mike is kissing him. It’s so sweet and so gentle—better than he ever could have imagined. The taller boy catches Will’s lower lip between his own with a light suction that has Will sighing, then he’s kissing him again, plush and full on the mouth.

Mike’s lips are softer than his, and more experienced. He coaxes Will’s own lips apart without any hesitation and sighs into his mouth so that Will can breathe him in, and _God_ Will does. He can taste the lingering fire of the alcohol from earlier in the night, and underneath that can taste _him_ , just _Mike._

Mike’s hand is still in his hair and his fingers scratch gently at his scalp and Will whimpers. Mike pulls back, just far enough to be able to speak, their lips brushing with every word.

“This okay?” he asks.

“Yeah…” Will breathes.

Mike dives back in—harder, faster, more. His hand drops down from Will’s hair to cup his face before curling around the back of his neck as he crawls from his sleeping bag to kneel above him. Will is drowning, drowning in Mike, so when a hot tongue traces the seam of his lips, what more can he do but let him in, really?

And if he thought he was drowning in Mike before, he was wrong, because now Mike is everywhere. His taste is _everywhere_. It’s dancing along his own tongue, and lining his teeth, and tracing along the roof of his mouth, and _oh my God_ is _this_ what he’s been missing out on? Impulsively, he digs his fingers into Mike’s shoulders and gives his tongue a single, hard suck.

The noise it rips from the teen is better than music.

“ _Jesus_ , Will,” Mike pants above him. Will’s lips feel slick and swollen, and his mind feels foggy, and his body feels hot, and getting hotter as Mike presses kiss after kiss to his heated face. One on his chin, one on his cheek, one just below his ear. Then, Mike is buried in his neck, pressing kisses there too, some soft and some stinging with the bite of teeth, and it’s all _so much_ , _too much_.

“Mike! Mike!” Will has to bury his hands in Mike’s hair and pull to get his attention. He presses a quick kiss to his lips again— _quick_ being the keyword here, because it would be so easy to get drawn back in. He _wants_ to get drawn back in. “You have a girlfriend,” he reminds his friend.

“I’m breaking up with her,” Mike repeats, dipping down as if to kiss him again.

Will stops him.

“But you haven’t yet. You still have a girlfriend, Mike. I promise, I _promise_ if you still want this tomorrow when we’re awake and sober, when you break up with El, I’ll make out with you as much as you want. But right now, you have a girlfriend, and I _can’t_.”

Mike stares at him in the dark for a few moments before running his fingers through his hair again.

“See, Byers, you understand people.”

He gives him a peck on the lips.

“That’s why I like you. And that’s why—” another peck on the lips “I’m not gonna let stupid Sharon Hadley have you.” Another kiss. “I saw you first.”

They share one more kiss that fades into three, five, seven kisses.

Will giggles and shoos Mike off of him with an exasperated,

“Okay, okay, go to sleep!”

Mike rolls onto his side, but flings an arm over Will’s waist, holding him close.

“I mean it, Will. I’m not drunk anymore.”

Will scoffs.

“Okay, I’m not _as_ drunk anymore. But, I really…I really do want you to be mine.”

Will shifts under Mike’s arm and leans in close enough to breathe in the air he exhales.

“I want that too, Mike. More than anything.”

“Tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow,” Will agrees.

It sounds like a promise.

Will drifts off to sleep like that, happier than he’s been in a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Why did nobody tell me about my incredible overuse of the word "water" ?  
> I feel so betrayed.  
> (You all really let me put the wrong date too, huh. December instead of July. 12 instead of 7. I can't trust anybody.)  
> CORRECTED 7/28/19   
> HA!


End file.
